Such A Way With Words
by irl-alfed
Summary: (From a fic prompt on tumblr. Taken from otpprompts) Karkat is receiving absolutely awful love poems from a secret admirer in his locker daily. He has no idea who is giving him these or why. But who is he to deny a little sleuthing? Or maybe the culprit will come clean...
1. Chapter 1

Be the grumpy teenager digging through your locker because your second best friend told you someone slipped a note in there.

You are Karkat Vantas and damn, how did your locker get so freaking dirty? You swear you have cleaned it out recently.

Soon you stumble on a neatly folded, slightly crumpled piece of lined paper on top of your history book. This wasn't here yesterday. It must be the note.

You unfold it, being careful not to tear it- it seems like pretty worn wood pulp. The blue lines have faded and have water stains interrupting their uniform pattern. The pencil the thing is written in is weak, probably some cheap mechanical, but still eligible other than the cursive-on-drugs handwriting.

_Roses are red_

_Violets are_

_Not blue_

_They're violet_

_That's why they're called fuckin violets_

_Anyway_

_I can't help feelin warm for you, bro_

_But not like_

_In a weird way_

_I can't think of somethin that rhymes_

Okay.

What in the name of holy bags of horse shit to the face did you just read? It sounds like someone just tried to write you a love poem but suffered a severe case of cranial hemorrhaging beforehand. If this was the method they were trying to use to woo you they were causing the opposite effect. Besides, you already had your eyes on someone else anyway- a pretty bad crush, if you may say so yourself- and it would take a LOT more than this cheesy bullshit to change your feelings.

The bell rings and you shove the paper down in your pocket, picking up your english textbook and slinging your backpack over one shoulder. You slam your locker shut, enjoying the satisfying metal _clang_, and twist the lock dial to a random number to fully close it. You head down the halls to room E-17 and sit down in the usual spot, waiting for the subject of your affections to plop down into the conjoined chair-desk beside you.

Speak of the devil, there he is. You hear him slink down in the dark blue, textured, plastic chair and let his backpack fall to the dusty linoleum floor.

"'Sup Karbro," he says gleefully, running his hand through your hair. Your face flushes red and you quickly smack his hand away, almost losing your grip on the smooth, wooden-bead bracelets on his wrists.

"Ugh, stop it, you grub-fucking stoner asshole. People are going to think we're together," you spit out, looking to the side. You honestly wouldn't care what people would say if you were his boyfriend. You'd have him and you'd be happy with that. But, being you, you were never going to admit that.

He gives you a strange look for a second, his mouth slightly open as if he was going to say something. He just shakes his head lightly and blows air out through inflated cheeks, letting his usual smile spread over his facepaint.

You get halfway through the class and are watching a video when he leans over to you and starts to chat.

"So bro, you got a motherfuckin' crush on any motherfucker?" he asks casually, staring at the projection on the whiteboard. You furrow your brows.

"No. Everyone at this piece of shit school is either taken or a complete douche," you reply.

He laughs. "Well I sure as hell don't think so. I up and got wicked reds for someone." he starts chewing on the end of his pencil, which has long since had the eraser gnawed away as well as the thin, weak metal.

You wonder for a second if you should ask, but since you aren't talking, he shouldn't have to. He already has credit for saying he does like someone.

You want to get your mind off of it, though, because now your teacher is yelling at you and if you don't think of something else your curiosity will get the better of you and you'll end up crying over finding out that Gamzee doesn't have a crush on you, which is inevitable anyways.

There's only one thing that you can do. Think about that stupid excuse for romantic poetry you have in your pocket.

Maybe you'll get another one tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Continue to be the cynical, angry teenager that has found another note in your locker.

You are still Karkat Vantas and in your hands is another note, assumably a "love poem"- if it could even be called that. You know quite a bit about romanticism, what with all the romcoms you watch and lovey-dovey novels you read. This attempt at impression is almost degrading, like whoever is writing them either has no time for or is mocking you. The other thing that annoys you is that you have absolutely no idea who is doing this. You asked all your friends, even your half-illiterate ones. You even had Gamzee read the first one and he had shrugged and agreed with you that it was incredibly idiotic. He had been real quiet after that, though.

You open the less-crumpled-than-before paper and start reading.

_I see you every day_

_Watching from afar_

_But not really too far away_

_Actually Im pretty close_

_Fuck_

_I sound like a stalker_

_Lets try this again_

_You are amazin in every way_

_Except for socially unacceptable ways_

_Which you aren't_

_But yeah_

_Uh _

_I hope this makes you happy, bro_

_Because its all I really know_

This time you barfed in your mouth a little. You're sure of it. Whoever this asshole is needs to stop. It's embarrassing. It doesn't even seem like they're trying, yet it sounds like theyre trying too hard at the same time. It's pathetic and annoying and you wish you could curse the secret admirer out. You growl and shove the paper down into your pocket carelessly, walking out to the bench you and Gamzee like to sit on during the mornings before school. It doesn't take long for you to notice him sitting there, his elbows bent behind him and over the back of the bench. You imagine for a moment what it would feel like to have them around you for once, but you quickly shake the thought off. His black backpack, covered in silver permanent marker, sits to the right of him. He likes to put it there to save your spot.

"Hey, you're a little late today, motherfucker," he says cheerily as you move his backpack off of the bench, sitting down. You look over to him and blink a few times, willing the blood not to rush to your face. You try not to think about it too much out of pure embarrassment, but Gamzee is quite the looker. His cheekbones and jaw are slightly pointed and angled, and his curly hair sweeps over his face, curling upward and ending where his neck meets his shoulders. He has deep brown, almost black eyes with purple flecks branching out from his pupils. You think he looks the best with a tiny bit of stubble on his face, but it takes along time for that to happen on him- you are both still in high school.

"Yeah, I found another note in my locker. It's worse than the last one," you reply, rolling your eyes. You dig your hand into your pocket- it's harder to get things out of your skinny jeans' pockets when you're sitting down- and hand his the now balled up piece of crummy lined paper. He waits for a second before taking it, seeming a bit reluctant.

You watch him unfurl it and scan quickly over the lines, looking up to you. "...Yeah," he says, putting it back in your hand, "That's, uh… Pretty motherfuckin' lame."

"Ugh, yeah. I know. Whoever this asshole is, he needs to stop. Gog, it's like it's a joke or some shit. If I find them I will beat them to pieces and then beat the fucking pieces," you rant, putting the paper back in your pocket. "It's not like it's going to woo me anyway. I already have a cru-" you stop yourself. That was too close. Unfortunately for you, however, Gamzee knows you far too well and smirks.

"Oh no, motherfucker. I know what you were gonna up and say," he teases, narrowing his eyes. "You got a crush on somebody."

"No, you fuckass, I don't…. I mean, I, not really, kind- Fuck!" you trip over your words, feeling your cheeks darken. "Fine, yes, I do."

Gamzee grins. "Ha, I fuckin' knew it. Can ya tell me who it is?"

You blush even more and take on a worried expression. Fuck, you really backed yourself into a corner this time, Vantas. "No! Like I would trust you, fucktard…"

Gamzee leans in way too close to you and waggles his eyebrows. "Aw come on bro, you can up and let me know who's got ya heart all up and flutterin'."

You think how easy it would be just to lean forward and kiss him and you lean back quickly. "Gamzee, come the fuck on. I'm not fucking telling you."

Gamzee pouts. "Aight, fine bro. I'll ease up," he replies.

You calm down a bit and return to your normal position, going on with average morningly conversation. The bell rings eventually and you have to leave, but not before the usual hug he gives you, which like normal makes you blush like crazy and shove him off.

For the rest of the day you don't pay attention in class. All you can think about is missing your chance to kiss Gamzee earlier this morning and who the fuck is giving you these goddamned poems.

Looks like you're going to have to snoop around.


	3. Chapter 3

**Heyyo! This is the last chapter. I wanted this to be a short fic anyway. Thank you all so much for reading this! And thank you to everyone who has posted a review. It makes me happy to see that people are actually enjoying my work. Alright, I'll let you read now.**

Keep existing as a stereotypical teenager.

You are Karkat Vantas and oh.

Fuck.

No.

You got another one.

This is ridiculous. Have they not taken the hint? Have they not seen you slam your locker shut harder than normal and storm away? Obviously they'd want to watch your reaction. This time you dragged Gamzee along.

"You see? This fucking asshole just keeps going and going and going! It has been two weeks and every day I get a fucking new one. They are all terrible. I mean, Gamz, look at this one!" you say, pulling yesterday's out from the back, unfolding it and handing it to him. You continue as he skims over it.

"Yeah, that one says 'I love you mucher and muchest'. Like, what in the fucking hell did the English language ever do to you?! I am sick of this shit! It's downright degrading! I mean, what kind of cryptobaffling mindfuckery are they trying to achieve? I-"

"Well maybe they're just tryin'a let you know they love ya in the best way they know how without actually comin' up an' tellin' ya," Gamzee interrupts you. "You're not exactly the nicest motherfucker to introduce yourself to."

Unfortunately, you can't disagree with that. You don't exactly know how Gamzee became your friend, but it had to have started with an introduction, and you probably hadn't been to nice.

"For once, you're right, Makara. But seriously, if you fucking know them, can you tell them to fuck off? It makes me uncomfortable. like they're fucking watching me or something."

Gamzee pauses with an odd expression on his face. Not exactly sad, not mad, just a little… hurt. You don't know why.

"...Alright, bro, I know 'im. He don't want you to know who he is, though. But I'll tell him to cut it out."

"Fucking thank you," you reply, sighing. This is when you notice the weird thing on Gamzee's head. It's a beanie. What the fuck? Gamzee doesn't wear hats unless it's freezing. Even then he can stick it through without one. And you also can't see his hair! You love his hair. With that beanie in the way you can't touch it when he falls asleep in class.

"Gamzee."

He looks down at you, snapping out of his zone. He just spaces out sometimes.

"Get that off of your head."

"Aw, why motherfucker? I thought it'd be cool," he whines in reply. You growl.

"God damnit, you crotchblistering dickweed, let me have it!"

"Nuh-uh bro, only if you can reach it!"

"Oh no, that's unfair, jugga-trash! Give it to me!"

You jump up, swinging your arms. He leans back as a dodge and you growl. You stomp towards him, your converse squeaking on the tile floor, and stand on your toes. He only stands still because he knows you can't reach it.

"Haha, here bro, lemme help ya!" he teases, grabbing you by the waist. He lifts you up like nothing and you squirm around, embarrassed.

"You shitbagging, footfucking asswagon! Put me down!"

"But I thought you wanted my hat."

You reach over and yank the beanie off his head, slamming your wrists down on his shoulders for balance. You know he wouldn't drop you but there is definitely a possibility that you will end up being the cause of your deadly fall to the floor. He sets you down and laughs, tousling your hair. You flip him off and he starts cracking up.

"You are just the cutest motherfucker I've ever seen," he lets out between howls, holding his stomach. You can't help but smile at him laughing so hard. You like to see him happy but the fact that he called you cute makes your mind reel. It's like you're embarrassment-angry at him but elated to see him smile so widely. This crush is hitting you hard and it's difficult not to pull him down and kiss him right on the spot.

The bell rings and he hugs you like every day, but this time you don't push him off. You hug him back and smile when you are walking to class. But your happiness is stopped just before lunch when you find another note in your locker. You're not angry or annoyed though. Your heart has just sped up and dropped into your liver at the same time. Your cheeks heat up and you hold your breath involuntarily. You did not expect this at all.

_Hey, you know what?_

_It's your best bro. You know, Gamzee!_

_I'm the annoying motherfucker who's been writing you these._

_Yeah, that was embarrassing._

_Anyway, meet me at the bench behind the portables. Nobody's gonna be there so I can accept your rejection in peace._

_Love ya bro._

When the hell did you even walk into the cafeteria and get your food? You're sure that didn't happen, but you guess it did. You were probably too hyped up on adrenalin to notice what you were doing. Damn, this is moving fast, because now you're turning the corner of the back portables to the single bench there and sure enough, Gamzee's sitting there, quietly eating his lunch and doodling in his mini sketchbook like the artistic fuck he is. You slam your food and he looks up at your red, flustered face. He swallows his food. He tries to say something but he can't because you're kissing him. You are gripping onto his shirt and clenching your eyes shut and worrying until he kisses you back and you are so, so very happy and embarrassed and nervous and slightly shaky and-

Air. You need air so your body pulls you away. You are breathing hard and sitting in between Gamzee's legs, still grasping onto his shirt, and you dig your fingers into the fabric even harder when he smiles at you.

"D-Did you really think that I would fucking reject you?" this comes out more quiet and meek than you'd hoped. You look down and he chuckles. He pulls you in for a hug and holds you against his chest. You stretch your legs out behind you and let them hang off the end of the bench.

"Kinda- sorta," he replies, rubbing your back and kissing you on the top of your head. Your heart flips and you get hot again. This makes you nuzzle into him further, not wanting him to see your blush.

"What I can't get over is why you were writing the fucking things. And how they could come out so…" You're not sure what to finish with because you don't want to hurt him.

He laughs. "Stupid?"

"...Yeah. You're a musician, Gamzee, I had no idea you could come up with such douchefucking horseshit. I know you aren't an idiot."

"I dunno bro, I think maybe I just wanted to make it not motherfucking obvious that I was the one writin' 'em. And I know you like that stuff from movies so… I guess I just kinda figured that it might work."

"Well you had the opposite fucking effect," you say, giggling at the end. You close your eyes. He is ridiculous. He is completely fucking ridiculous and you love him for that.

"...So what does this leave us as?" you ask curiously, anticipating the answer you want. In the back of your mind you're sure of what he is going to say, but your jumbled emotions are clouding up the front of your brain with so much doubt that the calm part dissipates.

"Boyfriends okay with ya? That's what I think we are," he says serenely, pulling you up to look at you. He smiles lightly before kissing you on the nose. You blush darker before replying.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'd like that."


End file.
